


A Slow Inevitability

by DarkIsRising



Category: Smallville
Genre: Grief/Mourning, M/M, Road Trips, Underage Smoking, implied sex work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-25 19:46:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30094185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkIsRising/pseuds/DarkIsRising
Summary: Season 5 spoilers, Post- Reckoning.After the death of Clark's dad, Lex tries to help.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Lex Luthor
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	A Slow Inevitability

**Author's Note:**

> I've resurrected this fic because it's a sentimental fav of mine. I wrote it back in 2006 after the death of a friend, under my former pseud: chimosa. I panic-purged all my work under that name a few years back yet this one miraculously survived via livejournal, so I'm going to stick in in my new account for safe keeping.

Lex knew this was a bad idea even as he walked up the porch steps to the Kent's front door. The bitter wind seemed to agree with him, gusting harsh and disparaging as he knocked once, twice. He stepped away from the door as he waited for a response from inside the house, eyes tracking the horizon as the dying orange sun reflected bright off the snow-covered land.

Lex wasn't used to the view from here. Back when Clark still considered him a friend, he was encouraged to use the kitchen door. Like family, Clark had said with a shy grin and downcast eyes. Even after, when their friendship was of dubious standing, Lex had still elected to use the kitchen, if only to see the irritation in Clark's eyes. You used to let me into your life. And maybe in part it was payback for how quick Clark was to barge into his own home.

But this was not the time for subtle jabs and power games. Yesterday Clark had buried his father.

The door creaked open behind Lex and the sound was quaint and cozy. The look in Clark's eyes when Lex turned was anything but.

They stood for a moment, staring at one another. Lex waited for Clark to speak, invite him in from the cold, anything. Instead, Clark glared at Lex, inhospitable and angry, jaw tight.

Bad idea.

"Clark-" he started, hastily removing his sunglasses.

Clark crossed his arms over his chest, more barriers between them.

Bad idea.

"I was at the funeral yesterday, but I didn't want to intrude. I came to offer you my condolences, see if you needed anything, if there was anything I could do for your family." Lex was babbling and he knew it but couldn't stop. "Jonathon was a good man, a great man, and-"

"Lex," Clark broke in and Lex was relieved.

"Yes?"

"Go away." And as if Clark's voice wasn't final enough, the door shut decisively in Lex's face.

Perfect.

Lex wasn't childish enough to kick at the snow as he walked back to his car, but it was a near thing. He settled for slamming the car door harder then necessary and turned the key in the ignition, the expensive engine barely humming as it came to life. Lex sat back, staring out the windshield to the yellow and white farm house. He knew he should drive off; he wasn't particularly welcome here, but he hesitated to move his car out of park. Instead he hunched over, head resting on the steering wheel, and he could feel an air vent blasting heated air onto his scalp.

A knock on the passenger door startled Lex, jerking him upright.

Clark.

Lex unlocked the door and Clark slid into the seat and stared out the windshield.

"Clark?" Lex ventured and waited while Clark clenched and unclenched his fists, composed himself enough to speak.

"You said you wanted to help me? Then drive."

Bad idea.

Lex obediently put the car in reverse, easing out of the Kent property. When he finally made it to the nearest paved road, he looked to Clark, hoping for some sort of a clue as to what he was supposed to do. Clark was emphatically ignoring Lex.

"Where to?"

Silence and Clark finally bit out, "Doesn't matter."

West it was, then.

Lex expected Clark to relax once they were out of Smallville, maybe ask him to turn around, but instead he continued to stare out the window, eyes tracking the fields blanketed in snow. The silence in the car was thick and tense and wholly uncomfortable.

"Did you tell your mom you were leaving?"

No response.

"Do you want to use my cell phone, let her know you're with me?"

Still nothing. "Clark-"

"Can't this thing go any faster?" Clark interrupted, still looking resolutely out the window.

In answer, Lex pressed his foot down harder on the accelerator.

The world sped by as they raced toward an unknown destination, the car's engine the only sound between them. Lex stretched to turn on the radio, even a local country music station was better then this quiet, but Clark just reached over and turned the music off. Clark turned away as Lex opened his mouth to speak again.

Well, if that's the way it was.

Lex slumped back into his seat, forcibly relaxing into the silence. The further they drove, the more the light faded into night. Lex turned the headlights on and glanced to Clark but he continued to stare out at the passing scenery.

Hours passed and Clark still sat mutely, posture painfully erect, jaw clenched tight.

Lex continued to drive until he noticed the fuel gage dipping dangerously low. He turned into the next gas station he came to just as the gas light blinked on. It was late enough that his was the only car there to be fueled, and he realized why there was a gas attendant there so late when he got out of his car.

The pump didn't accept credit cards. Of course it didn't; he was God-knew-where in rural Kansas. Sighing, he turned to Clark, about to ask if he needed anything from inside, but Clark was still staring out the window, seemingly unaware that they were even parked. Lex, hesitant to bring Clark out of his thoughts, gently eased his door closed.

A tinkling bell brightly announced his entrance, and immediately he was assaulted by the blissful scent of coffee. He automatically gravitated toward the smell, and being so near caffeine suddenly made him conscious of how late it was and how long he had been driving.

"Just made a new pot," a nasal voice boomed across the tiny shop, and Lex startled at the sudden sound.

"Excuse me?"

"The coffee. Just made a fresh pot."

"Ah," Lex said coolly, turning to pour himself a Styrofoam cup-full, peripherally aware of the attendant studying him.

"City boy?" The man asked, probably out of politeness more then curiosity.

"You could say that," Lex replied distantly, briefly considering getting a cup for Clark, as well.

"Nice car you got."

"Yes," Lex agreed. Better not, Clark really didn't need to be put any more on edge tonight.

Lex paid for his drink and gas, sipping the warm bitter coffee gratefully, absentmindedly answering the attendant's eager questions about the Porsche. He glanced at the newspapers, but the headlines were the same as they had been for the past few days. The sudden death of a state senator on election night was more than newsworthy; the irony no doubt appealed to the papers' readership, morbid curiosity boosting sales enough to keep the story on the front page.

The attendant noticed Lex's attention and remarked as he handed over a receipt, "Shame about the senator, huh?"

"Yes."

The bell on the door heralded Lex's exit as he stepped into the cold, bitter night. He walked to his car and started the gas pumping before he realized Clark wasn't in his seat. Glancing around he finally caught sight of him, standing at the edge of the gas station's light, hands on his hips as if challenging the vast darkness he stared out into.

Lex walked up behind him and wasn't surprised that Clark didn't acknowledge his presence. Together they stood in front of nothing and nothing and nothing.

"Snow," Clark observed inexplicably, voice gravelly and harsh.

Lex didn't know how to respond.

"It is February," he finally settled on, matching Clark's ambiguous tone.

Again, silence.

Clark's face was cast in shadow, only the sharp edges of his cheek bones, his clenched jaw, were illuminated. He looked distant, detached, and the wintry air made Lex long for the burning slide of his scotch and the comforting fog that followed.

He was painfully aware of how useless he was to Clark at the moment; the eight hours of silence had made that evident. At least if he had his scotch, his uselessness wouldn't bother him so much. As it was, it was an effort to keep his arms at his side and not wrap them around Clark, a gesture of comfort and companionship that Clark had taught Lex years ago. But Lex knew he would only be rebuffed, that familiarity long gone.

"Is there snow everywhere?" Clark muttered and Lex wasn't sure if he was supposed to hear him or not.

"I never knew you hated snow so much," Lex responded neutrally.

"It's not- I don't," a quick glance at Clark reveal his eyes, burning feverishly, hands tightened into fists before loosening again. "It just reminds me of someone."

Lex knew he was pushing his luck, that this was more than Clark had revealed all night, but he needed to know- "Who?"

He could see Clark's face closing off even before he shook his head, clearing away Lex's interest, dismissing Lex's concern.

"You don't know him," Clark muttered sullenly, turning away, and walking back to the car.

Lex followed him, sliding back into his seat. Clark returned to his vigilant watch out the window as Lex started the car. An idea was forming in Lex's mind, and already he knew it was poorly constructed, the result of going twenty hours without sleep, but-

"It's not snowing in Mexico."

Clark snorted half-heartedly before catching sight of Lex's face. "Mexico. You're serious?"

And even if he hadn't been before, the hopeful lilt of Clark's voice made him certain.

"Sure, why not?"

"Mexico. But- You- I mean. I can't leave the country- I don't have any ID on me!"

The genuine bewilderment made Lex laugh, "Yes, well, I have a lot of cash on me. I'm sure we could figure something out."

"Mexico," Clark breathed.

"Mexico," Lex repeated firmly.

"Sure, okay, Mexico," Clark said as he slouched in his seat, eyes staring out into the white-and-black speckled Kansas countryside. "Why not?"

The silence in the car was different. It still sat heavily between them, but it wasn't quite so unwieldy. The minutes raced by and, as they sped past pastures and cows, yellow light slowly began to crawl into the sky.

Lex's coffee had long ago been finished and he began to feel the first faint tugs of fatigue clouding his mind. In his peripheral vision he saw Clark, still and pensive, though he had been jerking in and out of sleep for the last hour.

Now the sun was up and the bright glow was sobering. Last night Lex had been far from rational, governed by his concern for Clark and led by impulse.

Today would be different.

The next small town he came to he pulled in to the gas station and subtly checked his cell phone for reception.

Perfect.

He skimmed his wallet out of his back pocket and threw it into Clark's lap. Clark looked up in surprise and Lex responded easily, "Mind going inside to pay?"

Clark shrugged but picked up the wallet and unbuckled his seat belt. When he was a good distance away Lex dialed his cell phone.

"Kent Farms."

"Mrs. Kent. It's Lex."

"Lex!" The voice that had sounded so weary at first perked with interest. "What a surprise-"

"Not really," Lex cut in smoothly. "Considering I have your son."

There was a pause and Lex mentally replayed his words, kicked himself when he realized that once again his predisposition towards the dramatic had made him sound like some B-movie villain.

"What I mean to say is that your son is here. With me."

"Where are you?"

"To be honest, I can't really say. We're at a gas station somewhere in Kansas, off US-83. Other than that-"

"Lex, this is very important, I need you to tell me if Clark is wearing any red jewelry, behaving strangely-"

Red jewelry?

"Mrs. Kent," Lex cast about for what to say. "Grief affects people in ways we might perceive as strange." He was surprised to find the words of a long-ago therapist spring to his lips, even if he had found them patronizing at the time.

But they seemed to work for her because she shuddered a deep exhale into the phone. "I'm sure you're right," she said. "Still, if he starts to act oddly…"

"I'll let you know," Lex promised. "I think he just needs some time away, to think." He looked into the gas station's small convenience store and could see the tall blur of Clark through the window. "Mrs. Kent? I'll look after him. I promise."

As the blur approached the exit, Lex hurriedly wrapped up the phone call and, with a final reassurance to Mrs. Kent that he would drive safely, he snapped his phone shut and slid out of the car to start the gas pump.

"Here," Clark said, angrily slamming the Styrofoam cup onto the hood of the car, steaming liquid slopping onto the silver paint. "I got you coffee."

Lex felt his face automatically smooth into careful neutrality at Clark's harsh tone. "Thanks," he said blandly. Clark all but rolled his eyes and climbed into his seat, slamming the car door behind him. With a steady hand, Lex lifted the coffee to his lips and slowly drank as he waited for the gas tank to fill.

He took his time starting the car and pulling out into the road, deliberately ignoring Clark all the while. He was angry, that much was obvious, but why, Lex couldn't say. Not five minutes ago he had been fine. Tired and silent, but fine. Now the tension was back and the hostile energy was fairly crackling off his skin.

The crinkle of cellophane wrap brought him out of his thoughts and, for the first time, Lex noticed that Clark had bought himself provisions. Plastic soda bottles and bags of chips were scattered around Clark's sneakers. But Clark had something different in his hands. A lighter and something larger, a box-

"Want one?" Clark asked sarcastically, holding out the pack of cigarettes towards Lex.

"How did you even buy them? I thought you said you didn't have any I.D. with you, and you sure as hell couldn't have used mine."

"Yeah," Clark agreed snidely. "The hair kind of gives me away."

"Clark-"

"You might not have noticed, but I've been able to pass for over eighteen since I was fourteen."

That startled a laugh from Lex, and Clark glared at him. How could he not have noticed?

"Regardless, Clark," Lex shook his head, still amused. "The truth of the matter is you don't smoke."

"Well, you know what they say about grief," Clark said in a tone so even, Lex found himself tensing, amusement dissipating. "It affects people in strange ways."

The back of Lex's neck prickled.

"So I've heard," he responded, falling into silence.

Clark clicked the lighter on and awkwardly ignited the cigarette, and Lex was surprised when Clark didn't immediately start to cough when the smoke hit his lungs. He grimaced, face pinched, at the taste but stubbornly continued to take deep drags from the cigarette.

"I do feel obligated to point out that those are bad for you."

Clark exhaled loudly, grey smoke curling around his face. "So I've heard," Clark said, voice mocking as he threw Lex's words back at him. Again.

Lex studied Clark's face steadily, taking in the rebellious glint of his eyes, the challenging tilt of his chin. He studied the tense jaw and the angrily flushed cheeks until Clark started to look uneasy, glancing at the road as he realized that Lex's full attention was on him and not his driving. Finally, wordlessly, Lex hit a button on his door and Clark's window whirred opened. Lex turned away as the frigid air carried away the sharp scent of tobacco.

Time stretched silently before Lex like a long, flat, snow-lined road. As the minutes and miles blurred together he found his tired mind sinking into a kind of numb stupor. He recognized the signs of sleep deprivation, could feel fatigue making his limbs heavy as he raised a bottle of Coke to his lips. The artificial stimulant hummed distantly along his skin, a persistent buzzing that prevented him from sinking into actual sleep.

A cold wind slapped his face, pulled him sharply back to the present. Clark had rolled his window down, which meant he was lighting another cigarette. The thick, gritty smell filled the car even as it was whisked away by the wind, leaving only the faint, invisible traces of ash and grime. The smell was fast becoming familiar.

"I need to pee," Clark announced and Lex nodded and pulled into the next gas station.

While Lex waited for Clark he bought some coffee and, after a moment's hesitation, another pack of cigarettes.

Back in his car, Lex tiredly rested his head against the window, the cold glass soothing against his temple. The car trembled as big-rig after big-rig turned into the gas station, the window vibrating against Lex's cheek as 80,000 pounds of steel and machine drove past. With every exhale, his heated breath fogged the glass and he raised a finger, idly cutting patterns and equations into the moist condensation, trying to complete them before they disappeared. He became absorbed, so lost in his simple task that he was surprised to find his coffee noticeably cooler when he remembered to take another sip.

Glancing around, he looked for Clark, but there was still no sign of him. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, watching the dashboard clock as the minutes blinked by, and there was still no sign of him. Lex was on the verge of retracing Clark's steps to the restroom to search him out when he noticed Clark walking swiftly, resolutely to the car, shoulders hunched and head ducked.

"That took long enough," Lex commented, but Clark didn't seem to hear him. He looked lost, eyes unfocused, darting nervously about.

"Clark, what-" Lex said, words abruptly halting when he noticed Clark's agitated hands, folding and unfolding a twenty dollar bill in Clark's lap.

"Where did you get that?" Lex asked, growing uneasy as he noticed how sharply the greasy, worn bill contrasted with Clark's meticulously washed hands.

How sharply the particles of dust and dirt clinging to Clark's knees contrasted with the deep blue of his sturdy jeans.

Clark didn't answer, only stared out the window, catching sight of something, and Lex looked to see a burly trucker, a robust man, swaggering to his truck with a satisfied expression.

"Clark. Please. Tell me you didn't."

Clark grabbed a soda from the floor and gulped desperately, as if trying to drown a taste from his mouth, and that action was more damning then anything Clark could have said.

"Goddamit, Clark," Lex said and his voice was little more then a whisper as the air grew thick and hard to breathe.

Clark seemed to sink into himself, and, as Lex watched, the angry and bitter man that Clark had been these passed three days withered away. Clark shielded his face with his hands and, in a voice so young it made Lex ache to hear, he said, "Drive, Lex. Please."

Clark gasped raggedly, the sound loud and saturated with barely contained sobs. Lex reached to place a hand on Clark's shoulder, but quickly withdrew it when he flinched away. So Lex did the only thing he could.

He drove.

And still Clark shielded his face, hiding, curled against the door as if trying to get as far away from Lex as possible.

He drove.

And Clark's shoulders shuddered as he gasped for breath.

He drove as Clark's breathing evened and he drove as Clark's body melted into sleep and he drove as Clark shifted, the vanishing sun softening the angles of Clark's face.

Lex drove until his vision started to blur and his thoughts became muddled and he had to slow his speed because he started drifting into the oncoming lane. He drove until he came to a motel with its sign half burnt out and its parking lot vacant.

Clark was still asleep when Lex returned to the car, a room key clutched tightly in his hand, though he woke with a shake of his head when Lex opened the passenger side door.

"Lex?" Clark blinked up at him.

"Come on, I got a room."

And it didn't matter that the room smelled musty or that the beds had round cigarette burns in the sheets or that the mattresses were lumpy and hard. Lex fell heavily into the twin sized bed and was instantly asleep.

He awoke hours later, disoriented, as sunlight pierced through the flimsy curtain and bore directly into Lex's eyes. He could hear the shower shutting off and the bathroom door opened, humid air accompanying Clark as he stepped into the room, a towel knotted firmly around his waist.

"You're awake," Clark said and when he sat on the edge of Lex's bed, water from his hair dripped onto Lex's arm. Clark stared down at Lex at length, but Lex had grown used to the silence and he could wait.

He watched as a bead of water rolled down Clark's chest and disappeared into the white fibers of his towel, instantly absorbed.

"We don't have to go to Mexico," Clark said, finally, and Lex responded with a simple "Okay."

"I think-" Clark's voice choked off and he tried again. "I think I need to go home."

"Okay," Lex said again as another drop fell from Clark's hair to his shoulder, blazing a trail down his bicep before disappearing into his wrist.

"Lex?" And Clark's voice was hesitant, unsure, and Lex met his eyes with wordless encouragement.

"I know I don't tell you things a lot and I know I don't always trust you like I should and-"  
"Clark?" Lex cut off Clark's staccato admission and Clark responded gratefully.

"Yeah?"

But Lex didn't actually have anything to say, instead he just looked at Clark and Clark looked back with an honesty that was devastating in its whole-heartedness, and it was enough.

More then enough.

Clark leaned over, and it was so simple for Lex to rise onto his elbows, meet Clark's lips halfway. Clark pressed Lex into the mattress with another kiss and by the next kiss they were moving together. The next kiss flowed into the next and still they moved, as slow and inexorable as the snow melting under the sun's relentless glow.

And after they came, Clark with his towel long fallen off and Lex with his clothes still on, Clark pulled Lex to his chest and held him there until they fell asleep, chests rising and falling, steadily, in tandem.


End file.
